


Side B: Visiting Hour (it's darkest before dawn)

by kuro49



Series: jason rare pair challenge [2]
Category: DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Filming, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Omega Jason Todd, intersex omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: The lesson Roman has learned all his life: It is about having. It is about having the things he wants. It is also about having the things he doesn’t particularly care for. If it comes down to taking, Roman Sionis has no inclination of holding back.And what he has is the Red Hood right within his grasp.





	Side B: Visiting Hour (it's darkest before dawn)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Visiting Hour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17905634) by [fleet_of_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleet_of_red/pseuds/fleet_of_red). 

> this is a remix of fleet’s visiting hour with a/b/o take magnifying the somno mention by like ten folds. also written for the day five prompt of omegajasonweek: somnophilia. (which conveniently counts into my jtodd rarepairs collection too.)
> 
> all my thanks to crookedspoon for the beta <33

The lesson Roman wants Jason to learn is simple. 

It is the same one Roman’s learned over and over again all his life. It is about having.

The what in the equation really doesn’t hold much weight. Because it is about having the things he wants. It is also about having the things he doesn’t particularly care for. And if it comes down to taking, Roman Sionis has no inclination of holding back. 

And what he has is _ the _ Red Hood right within his grasp.

Roman isn’t entirely sure what he would find, honestly wouldn’t have minded with whatever he found because designations do not define what people are truly capable of.

And, Roman would know. 

He’s been masquerading as an alpha all his life. 

The first mask he’s ever donned, pressured by parents with no inclination to give up their socialite standing for a son they have neither the patience nor the ability to bother with, Roman Sionis is a beta born of alpha parents to become the sole heir to Janus Cosmetics. It is probably fitting in some grand cosmic gesture for him to burn it all down to the ground in his incompetence.

Indisputable fact is, Roman _ likes _ the kid. 

Likes the way he can posture and lie through his teeth with enough bearings to be truly convincing, but stripe away all that bravado and left down to his skin, Red Hood is good through and through. And it makes Roman smile something awful.

Because to violate something like that must be precious.

When the ID from Red Hood's iris scan comes back, it is better than anything Roman could have anticipated. 

Roman still has no intention to begin guessing at Jason’s story, but it leaves him marveling openly at every scar when the symbol of the Gotham’s Bat is gone from his chest, the rest of his Red Hood armour a neat pile on a chair by the bed. 

And Roman always has to wonder if he is getting too sentimental too fast when he catches himself wondering where _ his _scar will fit among this display, wonders where he can leave one to match the vivid Y bisecting Jason’s chest. Because without a doubt, Roman is leaving Jason with something to remember him by if this all plays out in any way Roman imagines it to. 

It’s a disruptive thought. 

A change of pace, one he is certain that he will come right back to when all of this is his to have.

Because Jason Todd is an omega, and like most things in Roman's life, he intends to take full advantage of that too.

Roman starts light, just caressing, not even touching skin to skin when he brushes his fingertips down Jason’s sternum, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the black leather of his gloves. Roman isn’t incapable of kindness. He just chooses to bypass any resemblance of it, reaching for cruelty instead wherever he can get it. 

Because what is cruelty if not reality and what is tough love if not love all the same? Or he thinks that's what his mother said if he still remembers her correctly.

He takes his phone out, sets up the camera to record before he slips it into the breast pocket of his suit so the camera lense sits over the edge to film this in a first person's perspective that will have Roman coming back to this same moment time and time again.

A memory captured with permanence.

He smiles behind the mask, fingers dragging lower, following a path of mottled bruises from the Red Hood’s fight with the Amazonian, only daring to press down against the worst of the bruising. He imagines the kid to hiss or swear, or he might even be the kind of fucked up enough to sigh, a parting of that mouth, at the sweet blooming pressure of pain.

But glancing up, Jason’s lashes do not even tremble in his slumber.

The spread of those thighs is magnificent.

The line of his legs and the shift of muscles just beneath the skin something truly splendid when it reveals all of the Red Hood to Black Mask. 

The kid isn’t aroused and his cock lays soft but behind that is the slit of his cunt exposed. 

The room is silent save for the rustlings of his movements, and every motion is of Roman’s own doing when he gets one knee up on the bed to settle himself between those thighs. He makes it a deliberate point to rub the full length of his erection against Jason’s folds, precum smearing against the hole that he doesn’t allow himself to press inside. Not just yet, not while he can build this up into a crescendo.

Roman has to chuckle, lowly and to himself, when he feels the slow, soft give of Jason’s body beneath his own on every insistent rock of his hips and every catch of the head of his cock against that welcoming heat. As much as he wants to simply shove inside on a single push, feel that tight wet clench of his cunt all around him while he fills him up on every bodily drag of him onto his cock, this is about being careful and gentle, and maybe even _ sweet _ when he doesn’t leave a single physical hint of what he’s done.

It is setting the kid up on the edge of not-knowing while all the circumstances point to exactly this.

It gets him even harder when he is pulling back an inch just to have the head of his cock come away wet with Jason’s gathering slick.

“You'll settle for just about anything, won’t you?” Roman murmurs, leaning forward to card a leather gloved hand through Jason's hair before taking a firm grip at the roots, tugging with just half the strength he truly wants to. “Well, we'll just need to make sure you won't be satisfied unless it's me from here on out then.”

A beta in his own right, one that still clings to the social standing an alpha upholds when it has been trained into him since he was a child, Roman isn’t deluded enough to think that there isn’t an inferiority complex here. Forbidden by his parents to come clean to his own designation, he finds consolation in knowing he cannot be ruled by something as primitive as the biological urges that alphas and omegas fall for every single time.

It is almost astonishing the way base instincts of a rut or a heat controls them, rendering their owners simple. Damn near _ easy _ even with everything outside of that when it involves scenting or knotting or claiming one for another. 

Roman finds all of it so laughable. 

But it’s workable and always painfully effective when a couple minutes of barely felt stimulation has the omega dripping for it so readily. 

He takes him on his back.

The kid completely naked while Roman only leaves his pants unzipped and tugged just low enough over his hips for him to have his cock jutting out. The contrast cements the disparity, drawing their power imbalance to two end of extremes, Roman with all of the control and Jason with none. The kid burns hot as Roman pushes in, feels the slow soft give of his body before he is being wrapped in a velvety vice grip. When Roman buries himself to the hilt inside of Jason’s cunt, he can’t help it, he is brought right up to the edge.

He damn near comes.

Jason’s limbs are heavy with dead weight, unassuming from his artificially induced sleep. His unconscious body unmoving aside from the soft little noises coming out from his mouth falling slack, only shifting atop the sheets as Roman fucks into him. His chest still rising and falling in that same manner except every breathy exhale from between those parted lips has Roman getting harder. 

He is pliable, and Roman has him _ yield _ for him.

He watches the slow swell of Jason’s half-hard erection even when his hole is already soaked and sloppy, and it gets him touching again. 

This time without the leather between them.

Roman pulls off one glove to have his bare fingertips skirt down the kid’s ribs, falling into the dip of that tapered waist where Roman has to pause at how the skin there gives at the pressure Roman applies down against the nasty purple-green bruising of the flesh. Roman goes as far as to lean over, dragging the zipper edge of his mask across Jason’s collarbone in an imitation of what could be a kiss.

It is not but the sentiments feel a lot like it.

Roman isn’t sure he smells anything that isn’t his own exertion and sex, and he has no inclination to guess whether that is Jason’s scent blockers or his own inability to smell a thing in place of what should be something sweet and cloying in his nose.

Instead, he dips his head lower, flattens his tongue across a nipple before pulling off to pinch at it with his fingers, smirking behind his mask when Jason’s mouth parts wider in reflex to the abuse.

Going slow and near sweet, Roman takes his time.

Jason doesn't stir.

When Roman comes, he pulls out and comes across Jason’s face. Splatters of his semen across an expression that is serene.

He groans, and the sound feels intrinsically louder in a room that holds still for him. He tucks himself back in, zips up, and it's like he's never even done a thing.

The slide of the soft worn leather across his hand again is familiar, the motion a habit he’s never learned to undo as he slips his glove back on. The comfort of being hidden, of getting back inside of his choice for a suit of armour. There seems to be a lot of that in Roman’s life. 

"Even if you weren't good for anything else, at least we both know you're not half bad for this." Roman muses. He doesn’t touch Jason’s cock, leaves it to go soft on its own when he is barely half-hard even at the peak of his arousal. 

Instead, he swipes his fingertips against Jason’s cheek, gathers the streaks of white dripping there to drag it across the swell of Jason’s bottom lip before dipping it inside with a shove of two fingers. 

Roman allows himself to be rough here if just to see how it looks when applied so ruthlessly to Jason. And it is a very good look when he rubs the taste of his own semen inside of that mouth, stirs up the tongue that is soft and pink and wet, much like Jason's cunt. Roman is hardly a barbaric man but he likes that it looks swollen and puffy from him and his use alone.

Maybe there is something to the lesson his father and his mother wants to teach him.

It _ is _ about having.

It is also about every step along the way to get to that point, and Roman is only getting started. 

Roman draws thin trails of saliva between his fingers and the part of Jason's lips when he pulls them out. He cleans them on the softer skin at Jason's neck, drags a touch that can almost be called a caress from his jaw to his throat, tipping his head back just enough for Roman to trace at the horizontal scar running neatly over top where his carotid artery would be. Leather over skin, and no signs he is about to wake up anytime soon either.

When Roman smiles, he smiles at the thought of what he already has of this kid. 

Because when all of this is over, he will have all of Jason Todd through and through.

  


The reel stops here on this one last shot.


End file.
